Ohtoris Don't Get Sick
by FailingDemi
Summary: Kyouya: sneezes, coughs, has a headache, has a running/stuffed nose, and openly denies the fact that he's sick, sticking firm to the belief that Ohtoris don't get sick. And a stubborn Kyouya becomes an annoying Kyouya, in Haruhi's book. -KyouHaru-Oneshot-


A/N: Orly. I'm back! And...this doesn't have my usual spark in it. That is because I am hibernating my funniness! (Does that make sense?) Ah well. :P This is a fic, a look into the lives of Kyouya and Haruhi. Lol, I say. LOL.

You can say its a future fic...or AU. I dunno.

Disclaimer: I dun own.

Beta'd by: My temporary beta, MisguidedAngelofDeath! (I didn't wanna pester my other beta. DX)

-

-

-

_Ah—_

She shifted in her bed and stirred slightly.

—_choo!_

The brunette let out a small sigh and she sat up in bed tiredly. The clock blinked 7:00 and she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The woman directed a lop-sided glance to her husband who was lying next to her, his face buried deep into the pillow. Softly, she placed her hand on his arm and shook him slightly. "…mn…Kyouya…?"

No response.

"…wake up…it's time to get ready for work…"

No response.

The woman only blinked tiredly, while lazily grabbed a phone nearby.

_Beep._

"…yeah, good morning, Tamaki; Kyouya can't seem to wake—"

_Fwap._

"_I'm up." _

She closed the phone and placed it back onto the bedside table. His wife yawned, "Thought so…"

The ravenette blinked slowly as he wavered to the bathroom tiredly. "…Haruhi…never call Tamaki ever again…"

"Why not? You don't want to wake up," she sighed, slipping on a silky robe onto her bare shoulders. Haruhi slid out of their bed and strode towards the bathroom. "Besides…you're a very stubborn person…I can't get you up unless I call Tamaki to get you up."

"…he's loud…" Kyouya mumbled dazedly, while sniffling. Strangely his nose felt congested and his throat was aching. He grabbed a stick of toothpaste and squirted the paste onto his toothbrush, before—

—_choo! _

"Ugh…" he groaned, while wiping his nose with his pajama sleeves. Haruhi blinked behind him and prodded the man.

"Eh…Kyouya, are you sick?"

He shook his head and proceeded to brush his teeth. "Its shust ta winter air, tats all," he muttered through a mouthful of foam.

-

-

-At work…

_Ah—_

—_Choo!_

Papers flew off his desk at his sudden outburst and Kyouya slumped onto his desk of papers, staring at each one dazedly and lopsidedly. He sluggishly reached out a hand to grab at a pen and he reeled it back.

His secretary only swallowed thickly as she watched her employer read an application with his head glued firmly to the desk. The Ohtori blinked slowly and then murmured, "Mifurmi-shan, arem yooh shur tat itchs te wight paper?"

His secretary blinked awkwardly. "…uhm…say again?"

Kyouya lifted his head off from the table and placed his hand on his head. "…are these the right papers to the one about the bills and whazzamashit Co…?"

"…and…_what_?"

He rubbed his head and sighed heavily, "Never mind…" He absently stared at the words on the page. "I'll do this myself…"

She slowly directed her glance elsewhere and then looked at Kyouya suspiciously, "Uhm…Kyouya-san…it may be quite rude for me to ask, but it's out of pure curiosity…" He paused in what he was doing and gave her a questioning stare. "but…are you sick…?"

He twitched and immediately sat up.

"I'm not—" He coughed dryly, and he ended the sentence with a rash voice, "…sick…" And it followed up with dry, hoarse coughing. "No, -cough-, really! –cough- You're just –cough, cough- thinking that! –cough-"

…right.

"Can you get me a cup of –cough- water, please?"

His secretary turned grim, as he started to have a fit.

"Kyouya-san, I…really think you should go home…it's common to get sick during winter…" she said hesitantly, sweat dropping. "You should take a day off or two…"

He shook his head stubbornly and smiled strangely at her, "Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine. –cough- I can continue doing my work, -cough-, without any interruptions –cough- or fan –cough- tasies about me being –cough, cough-…ugh…_sick_…"

The secretary only twitched slightly, and she bowed briefly. "Alright, Kyouya-san…I'll be back with your cup of water…"

"Thank –cough- you…" he said, as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. She swiftly left his large office, and Kyouya's eyelids lowered slightly. Him? The great Ohtori Kyouya…sick? It would never happen, he scoffed to himself. He could not get sick! He _wasn't_ sick. It was only morning allergies.

_Achoo_!

"Me? –cough- Sick?" Kyouya scoffed to himself, while rubbing his running nose. "Imposshible."

-

-

-

The door slowly opened, and many heads peered inside. The employees, spurred by the rumor that the great Ohtori Kyouya, their boss, manipulator, and genius…was sick, decided to see for themselves…if Kyouya had really fallen ill.

All was quiet inside of Kyouya's office, save for the slight rumbling of the air condition nothing else was going on.

"-cough, cough, cough!-"

…

Their eyes fell on the black mass of hair lying on the desk. He wasn't moving…not moving at all. The secretary was pushed forward by the scared crowd, and she hesitantly approached with the cup of water in her hands. She placed the cup onto the desk and looked at him warily.

"Kyouya-san…?"

He did not move.

"Omigod…" she started, her eyes widening. "Kyouya-san's unconscious!"

"-cough-"

All went silent, as he reached for the cup, almost spilling the contents on his papers.

"…fank you, Mitsurkami-san…"

"…it's…Mifumi, Kyouya-san…"

He shifted his head a bit and mumbled unenthusiastically, "Isn't that the same thing…?"

She turned slightly and gave the crowd an approving look. They, in turn, became shocked and gaped at her.

They never knew the day would come…the day when their boss, their almighty boss who had never skipped one day of work in his entire three-year career, turned…si—

"And on a lighter note," the Ohtori employer mentioned, lifting his head from the desk. His slate, gray eyes were clouded and empty. "I'm not –cough, cough, hack-…sick."

Bam.

And that was the end of that.

-

-

-

Damn office people, he cursed in his head, as he shoved his hand into his pockets. Why the hell did they force him to go home? It wasn't like he was sick or anything! He was just…a bit off today! Nothing harmful…

He dazedly waved at his employee who had decided to drive him back to his estate, since he had forgotten his cell phone during his morning rush. Honestly, do you think that forgetting a cell phone at home is a sign of sickness?

Psh, Kyouya thinks not.

He walked to the front steps of his house, trudging through the thick winter air. It was damn cold, and he could hardly feel his nose anymore. Kyouya, feeling light-headed and airy, stumbled up the stairs of his empty house, and dug in his winter coat pocket for the key to his house.

And suddenly…

…his key didn't seem to be in his pocket anymore…

The wind blew at his back mockingly.

Kyouya grumbled under his breath and plopped down on the front steps of his house. It wasn't like he could whip out a phone—actually…his cell phone was left inside along with his key. He sighed depressingly; maybe he really was a bit out of it that day.

All Kyouya knew was that he was locked out of his own house, waiting for his wife to return from her law school so he could get inside and 'rest'. He took the coat that he had on, and buried himself into the warmth that it provided. A harsh wind blew at him and he strained to open an eye.

Aw, shit…look! It's _snowing_.

The business man leaned against the wall and stared at the piling of white snow across the front of his yard. Soon, his eyelids started to droop heavily and before he could stop himself, he fell asleep to the numbing sensation of the wind and the throbbing of his head.

-

-

-

Imagine Haruhi's shock when the chauffeur escorted her back home. There was this strange snow man next to the steps of her doors. Did someone just build one there? Upon coming closer, she noticed…

"Oh…my…" Haruhi breathed, her eyes widening. No, no, it wasn't a snowman, in fact, on closer inspection it was—

"Kyouya?!"

She hurried to the steps and kneeled next to him, dropping her brief case in the process. He was half-buried in snow, his cheeks flushed red from the frost bite and his glasses were completely fogged. Why the hell was he sleeping there anyways?!

"Kyouya?" Haruhi asked, immediately shaking him by the shoulder, despite the cold that shot up her hand when she touched his shoulder. He started to stir, slowly looking up Haruhi with empty gray eyes; the snow on his head crumbled off but not entirely. She raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, "What are you doing here? Sleeping no less?"

He slowly blinked and digested her words. "…ah…I forgot…the keys…"

"You're covered with snow! How long were you here anyways?"

"…forgot."

Haruhi twitched, as she pulled out her own pair of keys. She tugged on his arm gently before letting go to unlock the door. "Come on, Kyouya, let's go in and get you warm…"

"Mn."

-

-

-

"You're back so early?" Haruhi asked as she opened the lights to the living room. Kyouya only wordlessly followed in, the snow slowly falling off his thoroughly soaked coat. "I thought work usually ends at six?"

"Ended early," he grunted. Kyouya trudged to the sofa and without any regard of his dripping coat, he fell onto the couch and refused to move at all.

Haruhi's eyes jumped wide and she exclaimed, "At least take off your coat! You're going to get sick!" Kyouya closed his eyes tiredly and groaned a noise of protest before he died back down into silence.

"Kyouya?" she asked, slowly approaching her 'tired' husband. Haruhi leaned against the back of the couch and looked at her spouse curiously. "Are you okay?" He only shifted his head a bit.

The woman wandered to the front of the couch and grabbed his sleeves, attempting to pull him off. Instead, he jerked her against him, and she could feel his hot, heated breath against her ear, "Too loud…please shut up…"

Haruhi blinked as he slowly moved underneath her, until he stood from the couch. Kyouya turned his back on her and made his way up the stairs dazedly, "Going upstairs…finish papers…"

Haruhi only gave him a suspicious stare as he disappeared around the corner, and she sighed, '…something is wrong with him…' before following after him. Kyouya had traveled into the study, while slipping off his drenched coat and suit, and collapsed onto the chair where a mountainful of papers were carefully stacked.

The brunette peeked in quietly, and watched with waiting brown orbs as her husband grabbed several papers and started to stare at, completely zoned out. Question marks popped about over Haruhi's head—

'…the papers are upside down…'

Silence.

He slowly turned it back to its meant position.

'…God, is he slow or what…?'

_Ah—_

Her eyes widened, ah so he was—

—_choo!_

"Kyouya, do you feel alright?" she questioned, nearing him quickly. Kyouya was hunched over, his white shirt almost transparent because of the water. And she had to think—'God, did he sit in that snow for three hours?!'

He rubbed his nose with a wet sleeve and looked at her hollowly. "Mn yes, alright…quite…"

"…huh?"

"Papers…need finish…" he mumbled, his eyelids fighting his willpower to stay awake. The Ohtori twisted his chair slightly back to his desk-load of papers and stared at the swaying towers of forms and whatnots.

Haruhi remained unconvinced.

"Why don't we get you changed and you'll sleep early for the night?" she suggested, putting her hands firmly onto his shoulders. He shrugged them away and continued to ignore her, only mumbling to himself about the blasted branch of something, something.

He began to cough, his throat dry and rash.

Worried as ever, Haruhi tried to pull him out of his chair, "Kyouya! You have to change your shirt! You're going to kill yourself with your cold—"

"I'm fine!" he objected, wheeling around completely. She stopped the movement of the arm chair, and Haruhi stared at him hard, her brown eyes penetrating his 'cool' and sickened mien.

"Take off your shirt."

His eyes widened.

"What?"

"I said to take off your shirt," she stressed, grabbing his shirt before he could react. Haruhi undid the buttons to his white clothes, while sighing, "It's completely drenched. You can't walk around here with soaked clothing."

Kyouya didn't complain—he didn't even fight back when he was stripped of his clothes and a towel was flung onto his head. "You're like a kid. Come on," the voice of his demanding wife urged. His wrist was being pulled at. "Let's get you a sweater to wear—"

If refusing was one thing, then completely obeying to the point where she had to control his actions…was another. He moved like a ragdoll, flopping here and there with only the help of a gentle push.

Haruhi tripped backwards against an unsmoothed bump in the carpet, sending both sprawling on the floor. She gasped, as she felt her husband's crushing weight on top of her frail body. He didn't even _try_ to move off of her, and he was just too heavy for her to shove.

She let out a frustrated sigh.

Great.

She was trapped underneath a human cage. Haruhi struggled with a blush on her face, feeling the curve of his knee where it wasn't supposed to be. Kyouya had not moved, his face was buried against his hair; he slowly breathed in the fresh mint scent.

"K-Kyouya?"

She could feel his lips tickling against her ear, and it brushed against the shell; his voice was low, raspy, and dry void of emotion, "…this…is a…rather suggestive…sex position…"

Haruhi twitched, and she planted her hands onto his naked chest. "Kyouya…so not the time to be thinking about sex, especially when you're sick!"

"…random fact…" he so intelligently informed in the form of two words. The man shifted, until his burning forehead rested against her own. She could see the emptiness of his onyx eyes beneath his fogged glasses. "Sorry…"

She managed to hold in a tiny squeak, as she felt the rising temperature against her cool forehead. The brunette exclaimed worriedly, and tried to push him off, "You have a fever, Kyouya! What were you thinking about sitting out—"

His head slipped and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. She involuntarily shivered; he mumbled stubbornly into her shoulder, "I fumnt haf a fefer…"

"Move, Kyouya."

He breathed in the coaxing and comfortable scent.

"Don't wanna."

"You're sick."

"I'm not sick."

"Sleep."

"_No."_

She wriggled out from his weight, and frowned down at him. "You're a huge mess, Kyouya…you're running with a high fever, and you deny—"

Kyouya made a slow motion to stand up from the ground, "I'm. Not. Sick."

She twitched, and never knew that a stubborn Kyouya would be an annoying Kyouya. In a snap, she threw herself at him, "You—", he pummeled to the ground, with her pinning him down, "Are!"

He blinked, his glasses were knocked off his face and landed a few feet away.

Haruhi glared at him with a pout, as her hands were planted on both sides of his shoulder. With a deep frown, she commented, "God, you're so stubborn!" Kyouya didn't even open his mouth to complain when Haruhi straddled him roughly and told him off, "You're _sick_, accept the fact! Just because you're the head of some…_medical_ business doesn't mean that you're one hundred percent immune against a cold!"

He closed his gray, empty eyes tiredly. He opened his mouth slightly, the words failing to flow from his mouth. After a few moments, the man mumbled slowly, "I'm an Ohtori…Ohtori's don't get sick…"

Haruhi grumbled, as she lightly smacked her husband across the head.

"Tch, you and your stupid pride."

-

-

-

A/N: Right. Ohtoris don't get sick...uh-hum. Ah wells. ANYWAYS. Please reveiw!

and...the forum has been dead, but with your help you can spam the forum! We have nifty discussions and an awesome murder rpg. (join if you're curious, although you might be a bit too late...T-T)

Ah wells, leave your thoughts! BECAUSE YOUR THOUGHTS BELONG TO ME!!

-Demi-kun.


End file.
